In 525,600 Minutes
by SweetDisposition34
Summary: In 525,600 minutes, things have changed for everyone in New Directions, Will, and Emma. Inspired by "Seasons Of Love" from RENT, multi chap fic from the point of view of each character. Reflecting on their junior year at WMHS, one year after "Journey."
1. Chapter 1 Rachel

**Inspired by "Seasons Of Love" from the movie "RENT."**

**Each character in the club, and then Will and Emma, reflect on how their lives has changed over the last 525, 600 minutes. Takes place a year after "Journey." Each chapter is a new character's POV, there will be 14 chapters total. :) Enjoy! Read, review, suggest! **

_In 525, 600 minutes, so many things can change._

_And for fourteen people, things did. _

_**Rachel**_

So Mr. Schuester, always trying to feed our "creative minds" came up with a new assignment. Admittedly, it brightened up my dreary Monday, but I knew it was going to be difficult. Kurt had been playing "Seasons Of Love" on his brand new iPod touch and we were all singing along, every single one of us (including Puck) knew the words. To this day, Puck never fails to surprise me.

Mr. Schue walked into the choir room just as Mercedes belted out the last note, Quinn clapping her best friend on the shoulder as she did. We were all sort of harmonizing together, just goofing off, but it sounded good. Of course it needed practice and choreography and costumes and Santana went sharp on a few notes, but it was alright. For just goofing off, that is.

"Hey guys," he said. "That sounded good," he nodded towards the boys, who had been singing with us and Finn tapping out a beat on the drums. "And you just gave me an idea."

One thing you should know is that when Mr. Schuester gets ideas, it can go in one of two directions. But it usually ends up in the same place. It can go really, really well (like our Lady Gaga experience) or it can go horribly awry (like our Mash-Up experience) but no matter what, we usually end up learning some life lesson from it. I guess that's why he's won teacher of the year for six years in a row.

"So what's the idea?" Finn asked, curious, as he set his drum sticks on top of the drum set and took his seat next to me. My heart still beat a little faster every time he took my hand in his own, and I could feel a slight blush creeping onto my cheeks.

"Oh chill," Santana nudged me with her elbow. She'd gotten a lot nicer over our Junior year, but she could still be her old bitchy self sometimes.

"Well," Mr. Schue began as he turned to the white board, blue marker in hand, "In 525, 600 minutes a lot of things can happen and change. 525, 600 minutes ago, we were in the auditorium, crying, and about to lose this club," he held up his left hand, "I didn't have this ring on my finger, and I was quite honestly the most heartbroken I had ever been in my life. The only two things I cared about were going to be gone. And obviously, things have started looking up. We've all had our ups and downs this year, so I want you to figure out how you, as a person, has changed and what's happened to you over the last 525, 600 minutes of your life. And, if you can, find a song that represents your growth to share with us on Friday?"

I grinned- the wheels in my head already spinning. Mr. Schuester was right, so much about me had changed in the last year, and I already knew that this was one of his better ideas. What better way to close out our Junior year than a nice, heartfelt solo from everyone in the room?

Yes, I just said "solo from everyone in the room" and "nice" in the same sentence.

Like I said before, a lot of things have changed in the past year.

X

Junior year, unlike the others, was not clouded by the slushies thrown into my face. I was stronger this year, and totally able to handle them. Well... not totally, but I was far better equipped by the knowledge that A) I had friends, B) I had a loving boyfriend (not to mention gorgeous) and that C) I got tickets to go see Barbara Streisand live in concert for my birthday- love, New Directions.

Finn was over Quinn, he swore it, and he loved me. We hadn't had sex yet, even though we'd been dating for a year now. He said he understood the importance of waiting and understood it better. I was mad when I found out he'd lost the big V to Santana Lopez of all people, but understood that he regretted it so, so much. He said whenever it happened, my first time would be special. And it would certainly be with him.

New Directions took Sectionals and Regionals with tons of hard work over the summer. Mr. Schuester already has our song picked out for Nationals, but we are sworn, sworn, sworn to secrecy. He says it's "Worth Fighting For" by Nine Days. No one else understands why this is so special or secretive, but I do since I was a witness to his "conversation" (though there wasn't much talking- wink wink) with Ms. Pillsbury on the last day of school last year. Sure, it was a great song, but it was special to him, to her, and I guess to me (the awkward third party that according to others, "killed the moment").

My rivalry with Quinn has long ended, and now we're close. Pretty much best friends, which is good since I've never had a real live friend before. Now, though, I've got eleven. If I had a Facebook, it would probably be more, but my intense schedule keeps me too busy for the internet. I deleted my MySpace page. Mr. Schuester said he was proud of me, Santana said she'd lost her main source of entertainment.

My mother, Shelby, is a stranger to me. As sad as it is, she was right. Sort of. She lost her chance with me and now she's keeping her chance with Beth. She never wanted a teenager, and it was wrong of her drag me into her life just to spit me back out again. I never wanted to know, not then, not ever. I put my biological mom on this pedestal, and sure enough, in a moment it came crashing down again. Shelby and me are friends now, and sometimes I come to her with costumes issues or help with my really high notes. She's always free since she stopped coaching Vocal Adrenaline last year, much to the chagrin of Jesse St. James and much to my satisfaction.

Whenever I talk about her in Glee Club though Mr. Schue looks really uncomfortable. He blushes and he tries to act nonchalant. When Mrs. Schue (as of May, formerly Ms. P) sits in on our rehearsals, he asks me please not to mention Shelby. Quinn helped me fill in the lines, and we've gathered that my mother might just have been part of the rather hilarious and infamous faculty lounge outburst last year. It's been long since forgiven (hence the wedding rings) but it will not be forgotten.

F.L.O. (Faculty Lounge Outburst) will forever live in infamy.

And even though it won't be in infamy, the original New Directions will live on forever too. I don't think anyone can forget the last two years, and how since we were all a part of something special, all fourteen of us became special.

I'm counting the Schuesters when I say fourteen just because without them, new Directions would have ended up so far up Crap's Creek that there would have been nothing whatsoever special about it. But they made it special, they made it worth all those slushies, they made it alright.

X

I stood in front of the class on Friday, my heart beating fast the way it does every time I'm about to preform in front of people, and though this audience wasn't very big, it was also full of my best friends and biggest critics. "One year ago," I said, swallowing, "I was still a little girl. I wasn't very mature, I'll admit it," I paused as someone from the jazz band sniggered quietly under their breath. I rolled my eyes at the kid and he shrugged his shoulders like 'What? You said it first, Berry...'

"But now, I'm different. I used to think that getting a solo and being number one, being a star was the most important thing. Now I know better- I know that instead of shining out the brightest among all of you, all of our potential and talents working together makes the brightest star there is. And that's why we won Regionals last week, and that's why we're going to take States this summer and Nationals in September. And, even though everything I've been through, like the slushies and the name calling-" I glared at the jazz band kid again, "and the drama, finding my mother and losing her again, I'm still alright. With all of you guys I've learned a lot, especially my priorities and that I can make it through anything," I looked at Finn now, and smiled. "So that's why I'm going to be singing 'Still Alright,' by Adam Merrin."

"Take it away, Rach," Mr. Schue smiled at me, his eyes almost misting but now really. He was such a sap sometimes it was funny. "Brad," I nodded at the piano player who never really said anything, and I could of sworn he rolled his eyes as he played the first notes.

With a flip of my slightly-shorter-than-before brown curls and a thumbs-up sign from Brittany (she's everyone's best friend) I began to sing.

_When everything you have goes away  
You realize that nothing means a thing_

Everything you thought was a big deal  
Now you see it all and what is real

When all you have just falls apart  
And nothing seems to work out right  
And you're trying

You're still alright

When everything starts to feel the same  
And everyone around you seems to change

You went along with me when things weren't right  
And when the morning slowly fades to night

When all you have just falls apart  
And nothing seems to work out right  
And you're trying

You're still alright

X

As I finished, the other glee clubbers rose from their plastic seats and gave me a huge hug. I felt a little smother by all eleven pairs of arms wrapped almost suffocatingly around me, but I smiled. I was loved by them, and even though it took me two whole years to learn it, we were all always going to be there for each other.

And no matter what happened, we'd make sure we were all Still Alright.

Finn wrapped his arm lovingly around my waist and guided me back to my seat, placing a chaste kiss on my lips. "Love you," he whispered into my ear, and I giggled like old-Rachel would have.

"You too," I smiled. "Virgin cosmos after school?"

"Definitely."

**So I'm going to write a story like this one from the point of views of the rest of the kids in New Directions along with Emma and Will, and the stories will mix with each other. You're going to get a little background on their Junior year and then the song! If you have song suggestions for ANY of the characters PLEASE put them in your review because it's going to be difficult to find songs for all fourteen characters! Also, review or PM with plot lines you might like to have happened to the glee clubbers in the year that has passed- I need them! LOL**

**Read && Review, dahhlings!**

**Xoxo,**

**me**


	2. Chapter 2 Kurt

**Thanks to those who reviewed! (Kudos to you, LOL) And if you have the tiniest smidgen of an idea, please put it in your review! Finding songs to represent so many different people is hard, hard work- I don't know how Ryan Murphy does it! :) So, on with the show, R&R!**

In 525,600 minutes, so many things can change.

And for fourteen people, things did.

**Kurt**

When Mr. Schue gave us the RENT assignment, I was a little shocked. The last time we did the you-each-get-to-sing-a-solo-about-yourself type assignment, it ended in a girl fight, laryngitis, and overalls (*shudders*). We'd steered clear of those last year since everyone in New Directions was becoming such close friends, and I can see why Mr. Schue didn't want to risk that. But now, it's almost like we're family. And, since family loves unconditionally (something else I learned this year), I guess he thought we were finally ready to expose our innermost thoughts and growth to the public.

_Turtles move by sticking out their necks..._ Maybe some people didn't like the idea and thought that Mr. Schue had been spending far too much time gazing at inspirational posters in his wife's office, but I loved the idea.

And for this solo, I was certainly going to be myself. No overalls, no flannel, no hats that mess up your hair. Just me, Kurt Hummel, and my new Marc Jacobs jacket that had not tasted the sweet, sweet inside of a dumpster. Yet.

_Nothing ventured, nothing gained. _Right? Right. Maybe I was the one spending too much time in the guidance office. But ever since Carol and my dad got married, home life had gotten a lot harder for me. My dad really loved Finn. He was starting to feel that father-son-sports bond with him towards the Spring of my sophomore year, but then Finn messed everything up. Or maybe he didn't.

My dad's outburst meant so much to me. I didn't want him to be angry at Finn (no matter what, I was still pretty much in love with him), but it showed me that I was always going to be number one. Even if I didn't love sports, even if I used facial scrubs, even if I owned a curling iron.

Anyway, pretty soon Finn and my dad made amends and not too long after that, Carol became a Hummel. I was happy for them, really, but I realized that sharing a house with Finn was definitely not ideal. He had to see me in the mornings, before I was pretty, he had to see me when I got upset, he had to see me covered in my mud-face mask... but most importantly, I realized that as hard as Finn tried, he wouldn't ever be able to see past my label. Sure, I had grown more comfortable with the fact that yes, I was gay, but that didn't mean everyone else was. The girls in Glee understood it, and I started hanging around with them way back in the short-lived Gaga era.

Mrs. Schuester helped me to understand that I was still me. That I wasn't just a label, a big rainbow triangle walking down the hallway. "Kurt," she would tell me, "you're still yourself. You might have admitted a huge part of yourself to the world this year, but that doesn't mean you've changed. That's always been a part of you. You're a confident, loving, funny person and a very good friend. To everyone. Kurt, sweetie, you were even a good friend to _me _when you didn't have to be..." she trailed off, probably remembering the time when Kurt had bumped into her at Victoria's Secret over the summer, about to have a panic attack.

She was overwhelmed by the germs, but apparently she needed lingerie. I didn't want to know, really he didn't, but I found her a periwinkle lacy number and told her it would look fabulous. "Periwinkle." She said simply, "thank you, Kurt," and with a fierce blush, that had been the end of it.

I snapped out of the quick memory as she continued, "You just need to remind yourself, and even Finn sometimes, that no matter what your sexuality is you're still his friend. You still cheer him on a sports games and help him during Glee club, and I think you need to stop seeing yourself for the label you've become and start seeing yourself for the amazing person underneath. You're a great kid, Kurt," she gave him a quick hug and sent him on his way, but ever since that appointment, Kurt had come back fairly frequently.

X

The assignment. Hmm. I lay on my bed that night, alone in my room (yes, mine and mine only, singular, Finn sleeps in the attic-turned-man-cave now) just thinking. It was already Wednesday and I didn't have a song yet. At all... I wanted to sing about me being myself, not hiding anything anymore, because it hurts more when everything you have is bottled up inside then when it's out in the open. It might sting a little at first, but those who accept it, accept you, are your true friends. And you can't compromise yourself for those that don't.

A very smart, neurotic ginger taught me that one.

I flicked on the tiny flat screen on top of my dresser that took me saving up all of my money for two months to buy. My dad said he would pay for half of it if I didn't bring the bedazzler withing 20 feet of that thing. I agreed- silly Dad doesn't even know that it's impossible to use a bedazzler on a television. Boys...

Immediately, I flipped the remote to Disney Channel. One of the only memories of my mother are me and her sitting on the couch, watching some lame show on the Disney station. Ever since though, it clears my head. Like she's there with me or something.

Truthfully, so much has happened over Junior Year.

I got my first solo for Sectionals- I sang "Roses Turn." Apparently, Mr. Schuester had heard me singing in the auditorium that day, too. He said he was impressed because he never knew I had a voice that powerful (stick that in your juice box and suck it, Berry!) and that he was pleasantly surprised at my passion for some things. He believed that if I worked on it a little over the summer and smoothed out some sharp parts, it would be perfect for Sectionals.

I finally learned to accept who I was, realized that I wasn't just "gay kid". I was Kurt Hummel, and I was funny, friendly, witty, outgoing, and a good friend. I was so many things besides gay, besides the label that everyone stamped on me. Because even though sexuality was important and is important, I learned to not let it define me. I realized that being gay is just a minor aspect of my personality, and I have so many other qualities that are more important than what kind of person I crush on.

I learned that being myself was most important, and that people loved me for it. Everyone in Glee, my dad, Carol, Mr. Schue, Mrs. Schue (someone I never thought I would confide in, but a good friend of mine anyway) and slowly, Finn.

Winning Sectionals and Regionals taught me to just try hard. We're all so different, but that makes us work. Mr. Schue said to win, we needed to have respect for more than just our talents. And since last year's Regionals, we did. We respected everyone else because we lost and won together, and none of it mattered because we were together when we were doing it.

I wasn't the same old Kurt. I wasn't the gay kid anymore. I was me, I was being true to myself, and I wasn't letting one tiny aspect of myself outweigh all of my other qualities. And more people than I thought were accepting it, and not only that but they loved me for it. Brittany says, "If you weren't gay, you wouldn't have been able to help me find a prom dress..." I take that as a compliment, considering that Brittany will be Brittany, and she wanted a hot pink dress with polka dots on it. Not on my watch, I told her, smiling.

X

The stupid Disney movie with the Jonas Brothers and Demi Lovato was on. "Camp Rock," I think. And, as cheesy as it sounds, that's where I found my song.

By Friday, I was ready. I was wearing my favorite outfit, (Kate Spade summer collection) and ready to take on the world. "525,600 minutes ago," I started, and Mercedes smiled at me, Quinn next to her. Thumbs up from Britt- what else is new. "I let myself be defined by the term 'gay kid.' Because I let myself think that that was all I was ever going to be, just another stereotype. All I was was this label, and I realized that that wasn't who I am this year. Besides being gay, besides my sexuality, I have so many other aspects that make me Kurt Hummel. I'm nice and kind and witty, or at least I think so," Mr. Schue chuckles, and even Rachel nods at me. "So this year, I grew into that person. I wasn't just gay kid anymore, I was so much more than that. And I've been accepted for being myself, not ridiculed for one tiny part of it. So this is me now, the new Kurt... and so I'm going to be singing 'This Is Me' by Demi Lovato."

The music started and everyone smiled at me, like they were proud. Like what I had only recently realized they had known all along. True friends, I realized, don't put labels on you. They love you because you're different and unique.

_I've always been the kind of boy,_

_That hid my face,_

_So afraid to tell the world,_

_What I've got to say,_

_But I have this dream,_

_Right inside of me,_

_I'm gonna let it show,_

_It's time- to let you know,_

_To let you know,_

_This is real,_

_This is me,_

_I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be,_

_I'm gonna let the light..._

_Shine on me,_

_Now I've found who I am,_

_There's no way to hold it in,_

_No more hiding who I wanna be,_

_This is me._

_Do you know what it's like?_

_To feel so in the dark?_

_To dream about a life,_

_where you're the shining star?_

_Even though it seems,_

_Like it's so far away,_

_I have to believe in myself,_

_It's the only way._

_This is real,_

_This is me,_

_I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be now,_

_No more hiding who I wanna be,_

_This is me. _

X

It was past five when I finally left the school. My Marc Jacobs messenger bag slung neatly over my shoulder, my hair perfect, my heart singing with confidence. Yes, this was me, this was the Kurt Hummel that I was all along. I was too busy thinking about the success of my solo and the proud looks on everyone's faces earlier that I bumped, rather ungracefully, straight into Mrs. Schuester.

"Kurt," she said, smiling as she jumped back a little. "You did great today," she said, placing a manicured hand on my shoulder. God, this woman was organized. She had her whole look down to a T, very clean cut as always, and obnoxiously brightly colored.

I liked it.

"Y-you heard that?" I asked, suddenly unsure.

"I wouldn't have missed it, Kurt," she smiled, "You're one of my regulars. I'm, umm, I'm really proud of you. That you've finally learned to love yourself for you, and not worry about what other people think of you- because deep down, that isn't who you are."

"Well," I said, touched, "I couldn't have done it without you. Y-you're, umm, you're a great friend, Mrs. Schue," I smiled, looking straight into her huge eyes and nodding before I walked away to go find my car in the parking lot.

She put her hand over her heart, and I knew she was sincere when she said, "You too, Kurt, you too," and shot a heart-warming smile in my direction.

I really was loved after all.

**I'm not really sure how that ^^ turned out but I like it so... yeah. Review! Suggestions! Who should be next?**


	3. Chapter 3 Quinn

**Thank you for all the reviews! Okay, so I'm going to try to get most of the glee clubbers done before I do Will or Emma, but there is going to be Wemma goodness because I am such a huge Wemma fan :) So just hang in there... **

In 525, 600 minutes, so many things can change.

And for fourteen people, things did.

**Quinn**

Monday was a rough day, but most days are rough. Things have gotten better than before, honestly they have. At least I'm not pregnant anymore. Those were the hardest nine months of my life, but in that time I learned who my true family was. The most important thing I learned was that family, no matter how strong genetics might be, has nothing to do with biology. No.

Family are the people who love you for being you, despite your mistakes and despite your flaws. And even though I'm pretty happy when I look in the mirror, I know that I've got oodles of flaws. And mistakes? I've made my fair share.

"So, what have you discovered about yourself, and what changes have taken place inside of you in the last 525,600 minutes?" Mr. Schue asked us. Changes? Learning? I've done plenty of that. And maybe a few of my solos have been a little out there (pregnant dancers probably weren't one of my wiser choices), but I knew that this one had to be special. And as I looked around the room, at everyone in the club beginning to get excited, my Monday started looking a little bit brighter.

X

"So, what's your song going to be?" Mercedes asked me as we walked to her car after Glee practice. Her shiny sneakers looked funny walking next to my J Crew ballet flats, but I realized a long time ago that I liked it- the way two girls so different looked so much the same as we just stood there and talked.

"I don't know," I said, pulling open the passenger door to her mom's old Volvo. "I mean, I want it to be about letting go about all of the hurt and the bad times... and getting my life back," I said, "but I don't think you can really put that in a song."

"I'll help you once we get home," Mercy (her mom called her that, which I never knew until I moved in with her. I sort of liked this nickname even though she did it, so I only called her Mercy occasionally) said, putting the keys into the ignition and pulling out of the McKinley lot.

Even though my mother and I had made amends when Beth was delivered, I told her gently that she wasn't my mother anymore. That we were, yes, biologically related, but she wasn't true to me when I needed her the most. And that now, when it was convenient for her, she couldn't come rushing back and expect to be my number one again. That's just not the way life works. So even though it's a year from the time my mother decided to let me back in her life again, I decided that maybe she didn't deserve to be in mine just yet.

I spend time with her on weekends and we go out to dinner and stuff, but I need my mother to realize that she left me out to dry- and she wasn't my family. Mercedes, her parents, her brother, the glee club, and the Schuesters are my family now. If my mother had been better to me, maybe I wouldn't have gotten pregnant in the first place, or have been left to deal with it alone.

If my parents had actually loved me instead of putting on an act to love me, maybe I would be going to their old house right now. Maybe I would be getting into my car, headed to lounge in my hot tub with my old boyfriend. But none of that is happening now or is ever going to happen again. And honestly? I'm okay with it.

As much as I liked my old life, I like this one a lot better.

We pull out of the lot, passing buy Mr. Schuester's beat up old Blue Bomber. He has Mrs. Schue in his arms, his back pressed against the door, and is kissing her lovingly. God, I wish I had a love like that. A love where the guy won't just put up with your little antics, but love you for them. As mean as this might sound, Mrs. Schuester is outright insane (not personality wise, just her whole germaphobe thing), and has her husband believing that latex gloves are the new fashion.

I want a love like that someday. Maybe I'll have that with Puck- who has taken to asking me out on formal dates, given up Mario Brothers, and quit his dumpster-tossing business. That last part made Mercy happy- she said she couldn't stand Puck when she saw him throwing dorkier, less cool kids into the trash bins. _If he was that mean to anyone,_ she said to me once, _than he can turn around and be that mean right to you. So just watch your back, Quinn. _

"Cute, isn't it?" she asked, gesturing her head towards the two teachers as her hands gripped the wheel.

"Yeah," I said, twirling a piece of hair around my finger. "They're really nice people, the Schuesters... I wish I had a love like that..." I trailed off like I did whenever I was really deep in thought. It was just like me to tell my innermost insecurities and wishes to the girl that had slowly but definitely become my sister and best friend.

"Oh, shut up Quinn, you will," she smiles, pulling into her driveway and climbing out of her Volvo. "Come on..." she says to me, noticing how I'm still sitting in the passenger seat, absentmindedly twirling a strand of my blonde hair.

"Oh- right," I giggle, opening the door and climbing out of her car. Something about the Jones' house- my new house- makes me wish that I'd lived here all of my seventeen years. Its made of stone and has some wood paneling, too. It has a rockwall garden in front and no cliché white picket fence (unlike my parent's house). Inside it feels homey, cozy, and right. You can always smell something good coming from the kitchen- Mrs. Jones is an amazing cook.

"Hey Mercy," her brother, TJ, calls from the kitchen, where he's looking over his laptop. He's a year older than us and just finished his senior year at WMHS. "Hey Quinn," he says to me, nodding in my direction. I try not to blush, but that has become impossible. TJ is undeniably gorgeous- muscular, tall, on the baseball team and swim team, and insanely kind and caring. TJ has these bright blue eyes that contrast with his naturally dark skin. He's, in short, perfect.

Mercedes catches me gawking before we walk away to our room and she elbows me in the arm lightly. "Stop it," she whispers, giggling, and we turn away up the stairs.

When we finally reach her room, I plop down on her pink fuzzy beanbag chair and she hops onto her bed. She slips her feet out of her sneakers and sits pretzel-legged on her bedspread. "Girl, what the hell was that?" she laughs, "you're pulling a Pillsbury on my brother!" We both laugh at that- "pulling a Pillsbury" is a glee term for when you stare at someone and your eyes get all wide and mushy. Sort of like the way Ms. P looked for the two years she taught at McKinley when she wasn't getting much action from Mr. Schue.

"You like him." Her statement is simple, her voice happy but slightly accusing.

I manage a nod, "Yeah," it's quieter than I thought it would be. My main priorities this year didn't really involve guys. Puck is nice, really, but it just wasn't working out with him. We loved each other and we always will, but we're not in love. There's a huge, huge difference there, only one that I recently learned. "I guess I do."

X

It's Wednesday night when Mercedes does it. She thinks she's hilarious, and while she is (most of the time), maybe she stepped outside her bounds a little bit. But I'm glad she did- I'm going to have to thank her later. These thoughts rush through my head as she calls, "Umm, I need to go to Kurt's house! He's having a fashion emergency," she grabs her coat and slips it on (even for June, Ohio nights are chilly). "My parents are out for couples bowling, but TJ is in the kitchen," she calls as she pulls the front door shut behind her. I swear I saw her wink.

I gulp, wandering into the kitchen to get a soda or something. I find myself stopping abruptly in the doorway, leaning against the frame, and watching TJ Jones pour over his late English paper. I sneeze suddenly (nice one, Quinn, really) and he looks up at me with those _eyes_. "Hey Quinn," he says, "want some, umm, pasta?"

I nod, "Sure," and rest my hand over my stomach almost instinctively. It's a habit I haven't been able to break since last year, almost like I'm still trying to protect Beth even though she's not here with my anymore and never will be. All I want is for her to have a good life. I want her mother to be good to her. If my mom and dad had found it in themselves to be good to me, maybe I wouldn't be so messed up right now. For some reason, whenever I think of Beth, tears prickle in my eyes and I can't stop it. I wonder if her mom is making her dinner right now, I wonder if she's happy.

I feel a tear going down my cheek as TJ sets the penne pasta on two red plates. He goes to hand one to me when he sees me, standing there pathetic and crying, and says, "Oh, God..." he puts the plates down and rushes over to me, "Quinn? Are you alright? W-what, umm, what just happened?"

He takes my hand in his, and his palm feels warm and good against mine. We sit down, and he brushes my tears away with the pad of his thumb. "Quinn? What is it?" I look up at him and realize that maybe I'm being stupid. Here I am, crying over the past and questionable future for Beth when I'm sitting here next to my crush in this very moment.

"It's stupid," I say, "It's nothing," and take a bite of the pasta.

"It isn't nothing if makes you cry, Quinn," he says, scooting closer to me on his stool. Oh gosh, oh gosh, oh gosh my heart is beating about ten times faster. This is different than it was with Finn or Puck- TJ is sincere and he actually cares. He doesn't have to try or force himself to care like both of them did, but he actually does. He wants to fix me, he doesn't want me to just deal with it.

"Beth," I say quietly. He takes another bite and keeps listening. "I was just thinking of her... and wondering if her life is going to be good. If I made the right choice- I know I did- but I just want her to have a good life. I want her parents to love her, I want her to know I love her... If my parents had loved me, I wouldn't be so messed up-"

"-you're not messed up," he tells me, smiling. His teeth are really white and shiny, and the absurd thought that it's probably because his dad is a dentist crosses my mind. Am I seriously thinking of his teeth right now? Gosh, this is what Mercedes would call "whipped." He looks right into my eyes,

"You made the right decision, Quinn. As much as you love her, you couldn't give her what she needed. And you loved her enough to put yourself through pain to give her a happy, good life. And that's why you were such a good mom, you know? You were good to Beth, and she'll know it. She's loved because of you, Quinn, you did something so strong... I couldn't have, umm, done that. And you're not messed up. I, umm, I think you're perfect, Quinn."

The last part is barely audible, and I suddenly become very aware of where I am. The stool is hard underneath me, my pasta is finished, and TJ is about two inches away from my face. And he just called me perfect. And as another tear rolls down my cheek all by its' self, I whisper, "Thank you."

And with that, he kisses me. A real, loving kiss that you see in the movies. His lips smash against mine gently, his hands wrap around my waist and pull is both to stand so we're pressing against each other. My hands rest on his biceps, and his tongue caresses my bottom lip, seeking entrance to my mouth. Immediately I let him in, let him explore a part of me I've kept hidden for so long. Our tongues dance together and it feels new yet familiar, perfect yet flawed and that's what makes it so beautiful. We pull away at the same time, breathing heavily.

"Hi," I whisper as he pecks my lips lightly a second time, pulling me closer against me and lifting me just so my toes leave the floor.

"Hi."

X

I stand in front of the choir room Friday, ready to present my song and little speech. What TJ told me that night inspired me to find this song, to tell everyone what I'm thinking. How everyday, I still wonder is Beth is alright. If she's still loved, if my father and mother messing me up messed her up too.

_You're perfect, Quinn, you're not messed up. _But the truth is that our flaws are what make us perfect, because no one's perfect. Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, or something cliché like that that Mrs. Schuester told me once.

"Okay, Quinn, lets hear it," Mr. Schue smiles. I look down to feel my hand resting on my flat stomach again, but I don't move it. It's a reminder of love now, not of loss. Maybe it took me a year to move on with my life. Because I'm certainly never going to be over it- you can't just stop loving someone because you don't see them everyday.

"525,600 minutes ago, I had just become a mother. And even though I gave up my baby, I'm still a mother, right?" God, my eyes are misting already. "Umm, I gave up Beth last year because I loved her, not because I didn't. I knew I couldn't take care of her, I knew that someone else out there could take better care of her even though they couldn't ever love her more that I did. So I gave her away... And it's taken me this long to realize that it was the right choice. And that giving her up made me a good mother, not a horrible one. Gosh, I can't even talk about her without crying, still..." I trailed off. "I'm never going to be over it. Over her- but I've learned that it wasn't a loss it was love, instead. And I needed her to have strong parents. I hope they're good to her, unlike my parents were to me. It affects you, what your parents do, and I can say that maybe if my parents loved me instead of pretended to then I would possibly be a different girl right now. All I can do now, though, and what I've learned this year is that it's all how you look at it. Make sure the glass is, umm, half full. Because instead of missing Beth, I can say to myself that she's loved, and her mommy will be good to her, and that her real mommy was already good to her. And that I didn't make the same mistakes as my mother did... and that's why I'm going to be singing 'Daughters' by John Mayer."

It took me a minute to gain my composure, but only a second, and then Brad began tapping out the keys on the piano, notes flowing wistfully into the air with no destination in particular.

_I know a girl  
She puts the color inside of my world  
But she's just like a maze  
Where all of the walls are continually changed  
And I've done all I can  
To stand on her steps with my heart in my hands  
Now I'm starting to see  
Maybe it's got nothing to do with me_

Fathers, be good to your daughters  
Daughters will love like you do  
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers  
So mothers, be good to your daughters too

Oh, you see that skin?  
It's the same she's been standing in  
Since the day she saw him walking away  
Now I'm left  
Cleaning up the mess he made

So fathers, be good to your daughters  
Daughters will love like you do  
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers  
So mothers, be good to your daughters too

Boys, you can break  
You'll find out how much they can take  
Boys will be strong  
And boys soldier on  
But boys would be gone without the warmth from  
A woman's good, good heart

On behalf of every man  
Looking out for every girl  
You are the guide and the weight of her world

So fathers, be good to your daughters  
Daughters will love like you do  
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers  
So mothers, be good to your daughters too 

X

"Quinn?" I heard a voice behind me in the hallway, "you're a really good singer, you know," I turned around to see TJ Jones. He smiled at me, the wrapped his arm around my waist.

"Thanks," I said, "You gave me the idea for that song, you know," I said, blushing.

"I'm glad I did... you're, umm, you're really brave Quinn. And I like you. A lot... do you want to go on a date? Tomorrow night? Breadsticks?"

"I'd love to," I said, grinning when he kissed my cheek. We turned our heads around at the sound of more footsteps, and I laughed when I saw Mercedes jogging up behind us.

"Hey guys," she said, then took in how close we were standing, "Oh, hell to the naw... that is just so wrong..." I laughed and she said, "No I'm just kidding, you two lovebirds enjoy yourselves, I'm going shopping. But remember, I'm watching you," and she put two fingers in front of her eyes, then pointed on towards her brother.

I decided right then that I wouldn't change a minute out of the last 525,600. Because the minutes that make you cry are replaced just sixty seconds later with ones that make you smile.


	4. Chapter 4 Santana

**Sorry for the delay! Read, Review, Enjoy!**

In 525,600 minutes, so many things can change.

And for fourteen people, things did.

**Santana**

_Great_. Yes, even though Glee Club was (admittedly) the best part of my day, I hated all of the stupid little assignments. Like I didn't have homework, Honor Roll, Cheerios, and Brittany to worry about already. But I loved RENT. And I loved "Seasons of Love" even though I probably wouldn't admit it even if you bribed me with the newest Gucci pumps for homecoming. No, maybe I would tell you then. But only then. And I seriously doubt anyone in Lima could afford a pair of Gucci pumps.

"So what have you learned this past year? About school, about life, about yourself? In the past 525,600 minutes, how have you grown and changed as a person?" Mr. Schue leaned against the piano, his periwinkle (he always wore periwinkle, almost every single day) button-down shirt wrinkling a little bit.

"I want you guys to pick a song that describes what you think, personally, has changed in the past year. Since losing Regionals last June, what have you learned about yourself?"

Regionals. That was the most intense day of my life, probably, other than the day my mom passed away. We lost Regionals, Quinn had her baby, gave up her baby, and I had finally admitted my feelings to Brittany. After the competition, of course, and certainly not in public. I hadn't really been ready for that yet.

Regionals was the start of everything, sort of. For me, that day had opened up something inside of me that I never liked to dwell on, ever. If you don't talk or think about things, they go away. That's how it is in my house. For me, at least. My dad and my little sister talked and talked and talked about my mom dying when I was in eighth grade. They talked enough for me, too. And I didn't want to talk about it.

Talking was like putting it all out in the open for everyone to see. And I couldn't do that. I was a shell-shocked little kid, trying to be supportive for my sister. Lissy was only nine when Mom died, and Dad was too busy with funeral arrangements and being angry at the world to care.

I'd kept all of my own emotions inside of me. Since mom died, I haven't been allowed to feel things. How could I? How could I hurt when so many people needed so much from me? So, since eighth grade, I've been a bitch. A royal bitch just because that's all I could be without breaking down. My mom would have wanted me to be strong and brave, right? Because if Dad and Lissy couldn't, then somebody had to. And to watch your whole family fall apart and not collapse yourself, you need a tough exterior. Goodbye, Santana. Hello, Bitch. And everyone was okay with that as long as I kept it together.

Now I don't even know my dad. Well, barely.

And Lissy? Lissy's shy and doesn't have many friends, and looks at me like I'm some superhero big sister who's supposed to make her sham of a social life get better with the snap of my manicured fingernails. As if.

Because I'm still the same old Santana. Only I don't have a mom, and I'm about ten times meaner. But still, I'm just the same little girl as before. And I can't fix anyone else's issues- that's why they have people like guidance counselors at school or something.

But at Regionals, that all came crashing down. Crashing, crashing, crashing. That whole exterior, the ability to have the inability to feel things was over.

Maybe I hadn't cried for my mom at the funeral. I wanted to, but I couldn't. I was mad at her for leaving me with Dad (who never understood me) and Lissy (who expected me to understand everything). It was Mom's fault. I hadn't ever liked to face that part, the part where I knew deep inside that it hadn't been so much of a car accident. The roads weren't even that wet, really. Hydroplaning was possible, but barely. It had just been drizzling, but only an hour later the sun was out and shining (we live in Ohio, people, we have weather). She went out to the grocery store to get milk.

She kissed me and Lissy goodbye. "Be good, San."

I thought I was strange- there was already a full carton of milk in our fridge- when I went to go help myself to a peanut butter and jelly sandwich about ten minutes later.

But when I heard the news, I just knew. And so I went straight to the kitchen and ripped open the refrigerator door, pulling out that milk carton and throwing it, and my mother's deepest secret, into the trash can.

X

How could Regionals have sparked all of this? This immense pouring out of pent-up emotions? It began with Quinn. Quinn did it. And it wasn't even her fault, really, but what she did was just unbelievable to me. Yes, our lives were different. I could understand that, anyone could.

We had just left the stage. I was linked pinkies with Brittany, as always, and we were all happily chattering about how good we'd done, about how we'd already won no matter what those judges said. Quinn was rubbing her bulging belly every few minutes, her smile strained. I noticed it but didn't think much of it, maybe it had been all of that dancing that was just making her uncomfortable? I'd pawned it off as the dancing, yeah, even though I probably knew the truth deep down. I just wasn't really thinking.

That's when I saw her. Mrs. Fabray was scurrying down the corridor and closer to Quinn, to all of us. I gasped- Judy and Russell Fabray had kicked Quinn out of their house when they discovered her pregnancy. We'd been neighbors since forever, and so I had known as much.

Mr. Fabray had been kicked out, much like Quinn, last month. I hadn't thought much of it- Mr. Fabray had always been the pompous, I'm-so-powerful-and-can-do-anything-(or anyone)-that-I-want type. Plus, Quinn and I were not friends anymore. She'd stolen my boyfriend and hurt me, and and I did what I always did.

I let myself hide behind that awful bitch that I had become in the last two years. God, I hated it.

But Mrs. Fabray was back now, begging Quinn for forgiveness. She admitted that she had been wrong, so wrong, and now she just wanted everything to be okay. She wanted to take care of Quinn and of the baby, and she was sorry. She was truly sorry. But, somehow, that wasn't enough. Quinn just pushed her away, still wondering if she should give her mother a second chance. She told her mom that she couldn't forgive what she'd done.

That was when I broke down. I sort of let my knees give out, and I felt someone guiding me to the ground. While everyone else dashed off to the hospital since Quinn's water broke just seconds later, Brittany and I stayed back. We were positioned in the green room, like Sectionals, so I let myself plop unattractively down on the rough vomit-pink sofa. Gross. But I didn't care- I just cried.

I cried for my mom, that she was gone and never coming back home. I cried because I was a horrible big sister to Lissy, and an even worse daughter to my dad. I cried because I was, truthfully, a horrible friend and a horrible person altogether. It seemed like all of those tears I'd been saving up over everything were coming out now.

But most of all? Most of all I cried because if _my _mom had come back for me, begging me to forgive her and to take care of me and love me, I wouldn't need a second thought. I would give anything to have my mother back, even if she was the one who abandoned me to take care of everything, all of her baggage now resting on my back. I would give her a second chance just because she was my mother.

And however mad I seemed, no matter what she did, to me or to herself, I would always love her, right?

Yeah. I would.

And I could spend two more years pretending that, no, I didn't care about anything other than the color of my nail polish and if I landed my triple back handspring into a layout, but I wouldn't.

Because no matter what horrible things my mom did to me, no matter what awful secret she'd left me to keep for her, I would always give her a chance. For the sole fact that she was my mother. And I loved her because of it. How could Quinn of all people, a mother herself, not see that?

I had absolutely no idea. And for the first time since I was twelve, I admitted to myself that I had absolutely no idea about a lot of things. Because no one had all the answers.

So as Quinn rejected her mother that was oh-so-sorry, I felt a horrible ache inside my chest that had always been there. But unlike those other times, I didn't push it away. I let my heart break then more than ever before since my mother's death. I let myself cry and I let Brittany hold me tight. "Shh, San, shh," she said, looping her pinky in mine. I suddenly felt much safer. "It's gonna be okay, San, see?" I resented Quinn so much in those few moments because she had absolutely everything that I wanted— a good family, Puck, and most of all a mother- and she was pushing it all away. How could she?

I felt so weak as I cried into Brittany's shoulder that I thought I was going to crack into a million pieces. The secret that had been eating away at my conscience for years was finally something I no longer wanted to bear the weight of. "Britt?" I asked, "Can I tell you something?"

"Sure, San," she adjusted herself on the sofa.

"A secret?"

"All your secrets are safe with me, San. You know that." Her eyes turned a little sad then. It pulled my heartstrings more than it should have, and I realized how much Brittany cared about me. I had kissed her after Sectionals. Long and beautifully and passionately, I had kissed her, and I loved her. But I had made her keep it a secret. Our relationship was taboo, sure, but it was my own insecurity and need to be popular and the image of perfection when in fact, I was a mess, and for that I made her keep our relationship a secret. _All your secrets are safe with me. You know that. _

I drew in a deep breath. "There was already milk in the fridge, Brittany," I said quietly.

"Huh?" Her face twisted in confusion.

"On the day my mom died, she said she was going to get milk. At the store. But a few minutes after she left, I saw that there was already two cartons of it in the refrigerator. She... she never needed that milk. She left on purpose, Britt... she left us all on purpose."

"But you told me that roads were all wet," she wasn't quite grasping the truth yet. Brittany wasn't stupid- it just took her a little longer to understand things than most people.

"They were. But, umm, but not wet enough. Not wet enough to hydroplane like she did, not wet enough to kill you. Everyone thought it was a stretch. But they still don't know that it wasn't an accident."

"How?"

"I threw it out. I threw out the milk. She would have wanted it to seem like an accident, I think. Mom was always one for drama..." I trailed off, remembering my mother. She'd been funny and full of a wit so quick that Lorelai Gilmore might seem a little deterred around her. She loved me. And depression wasn't her fault... but dying had been. "No one except for me knows that she committed suicide, Britt. Just me and you."

"Oh." She ran her fingers through my hair, "It's gonna be okay, San. Your mom is really proud of you, probably," she said, smiling. "You sang really well today."

"And you remembered the lyrics," I grinned up at her, then leaned in closer. This was it. I pressed my lips to Brittany's and kissed her long and slow, and her moans of appreciation made me even more attracted to her. Our tongues danced beautifully, meshing together softly and lovingly in a way no boy, not even Puck, could re-create for me. I pulled away, cupping her cheek. "I love you."

"Wh-"

"No more secrets," I said, "Okay?"

"Okay."

I lifted our still-clasped pinkies to my lips and kissed them gently. Brittany was the best friend, and girlfriend, a girl like me could ask for.

X

Friday came faster than it should have. But I had my song. And with Brittany, I had found a new strength. I had become myself again, no longer hiding behind a bitchy exterior. I was new, I was fresh, I was in love, and I was changing.

I smoothed my short Cheerios skirt, and leaned against the piano a little. Running my fingers through my black, sleek ponytail, I began. "525,600 minutes ago, I was a bitch." Everyone's eyes sort of got a little big- they weren't expecting that. "I was. Don't deny it," I smiled a little. "Last year, I was still hiding behind that bitchy girl because I wanted to seem perfect. Even though I _so_ wasn't. I was still just me, only more insecure and scared of what people might think of me. In seventh grade, my mom passed away. It was a car crash- she hydroplaned on wet roads on her way to buy a carton of milk. I was the only one who ever knew that there were two full milk cartons in our fridge already. She did it on purpose. I never told anyone because I thought it would make me weak. Crying over her, being angry, not doing everything possible for my dad and sister all made me weak, I thought. I didn't even cry at the funeral I was so mad."

"My family, what was left of it, expected me to fill her shoes. To understand every problem, to clean every mess, to fix all of the broken things in life. So instead of feeling things, I became that bitchy girl you all knew to be Santana Lopez. At Regionals, I finally told someone the truth.

Everyone's faces were paled, open mouthed, seeming sorry. Like they hadn't been there, or could have done something. It was okay. I was done with being mad just because I didn't want to let people see me feel anything else. But feelings make a person, they don't make them weak.

"And I let myself admit it and accept it. Since then, I've changed. I've gotten better, and I've... I've fallen in love. With my best friend," I smiled at Brittany then, and she grinned back lovingly, holding her pinky in the air. I did the same. Artie audibly made an "aww" sound and everyone giggled, Tina elbowing the boy lightly.

"I've gotten better, but I'm still improving. Changing. And that's why I'm going to sing the song 'Changing' from the movie 'Dreamgirls.'"

_Look at me,_

_Look at me,_

_I am changing,_

_Trying every way I can,_

_I am changing, _

_I'll be better than I am,_

_I'm trying to find a way to understand,_

_But I need you, I need you_

_I need a hand,_

_I am changing,_

_I'm gonna start right now, right here,_

_I'm hoping to work it out,_

_I know that I can,_

_But I need you, I need a hand._

_All of my life, I've been a fool,_

_Who said I could do it on my own?_

_How many good friends, have I already lost?_

_And how many dark nights have I known?_

_Walking down that wrong road,_

_There was nothing I could find,_

_All those years of darkness..._

_Could make a person blind!_

_But now I can see,_

_I am changing,_

_Trying every way I can,_

_I am changing,_

_I'll be better than I am,_

_But I need a friend,_

_To help me start all over again,_

_That would be just fine,_

_I know it's gonna work out this time,_

_'Cause I am,_

_I am changing,_

_I'll get my life together now,_

_I am changing,_

_Yes I know how,_

_I'm gonna start again,_

_I'm gonna leave my past behind,_

_I'll change my life,_

_I'll make a vow..._

_And nothing's gonna,_

_Stop._

_Me._

_Now._

X

"San! Wait!"

I turned around in the hallway, my backpack swinging out to my side as I whipped around. Glee had run late, and I was a little tired after my own revelation and solo song. "Yeah Britt?" I asked as she got closer. Her lips were just close enough to mine, just close enough to kiss. She was so beautiful. Her blue eyes glittered in the hallway light, and I realized my voice had become nothing more than a whisper.

"Do you want some bubblegum?"

I exhaled heavily, my eyes growing larger. I smiled. "Yeah," I was grinning now. "Yeah, Britt, I do."


End file.
